Crystal
by DarkestAngellic
Summary: Chaos is not a fan of Lucrecia Crescent. At all. He has a bone to pick with her. Enough said PLEASE NOTE that fans/lovers of Lucrecia's character might want to avoid this.


_**Disclaimer: I own nothing from FFVII, not the settings, not the characters, not the names. Nothing. I own absolutely nothing. It is all the property of the wonderful Square Enix.**_

_**A/N: Again this is just a random something I wrote. Any reviews are appreciated; I am curious as to what you all think about this story an my other fics so far.**_

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It should be considered tranquil up here, high up away from the prying eyes and tainting touch of humanity, undisturbed by wildlife. But Chaos doesn't feel at peace here. He had once… but that was a very, _very_ long time ago. The place he once called sanctuary has long since lost all feeling of relative safety with the person now laying claim to it.

Anger bubbles hot through his veins, pulses bright gold in eyes as he outright glares at the figure suspended in crystallised mako, frozen forever at the age she was when she fled Nibelheim all… those… years… ago. Time cannot touch her here, cannot rot her body as it should.

She came here to repent, apparently. Fled here to pay for her horrific deeds. But in truth this was the coward's way - the path clear for once afraid of death. She cannot die so long as the mako surrounds her, cannot join the Lifestream and feel the judgement of those killed with the consequences of her actions.

Lucrecia Crescent. Sad little scientist trapped as the ages slowly but surely pass her by, society evolving and changing from what she once knew. Friends and old colleagues either dead or dying, not a single one aware of her location. No-one but Vincent visits, and he does that through guilt not his to shoulder. Just looking at that deceptively serene face has his hands curling into tight fists and lips pulling back from teeth to bare his fangs in a silent snarl, eyes glowing with such fury he looks almost possessed. Why should she look so Godsdamned peaceful? Why not resemble the tormented soul she was _supposed to be?! _There was no despair etching lines into the smooth flesh of her face, no remorse in the innocent clasp of her hands. Poisonous, traitorous hands.

_I'm so sorry._

Ah, so she finally decided to grace him with her voice, did she?

"Sorry for what, bitch? Sorry you left Vincent in Hojo's _oh-so-tender_ care? Sorry you forced us together? Sorry you ruined lives in your quest for knowledge and your desire to prove to everyone else your thesis was correct?" He's approached her precious little prison with every venom-laced question until he's just beyond reach of the pool surrounding the crystal holding her. His rage is a palpable thing, thick and stifling in the air, charging the atmosphere in a fashion similar to that of an oncoming thunderstorm. Shadows, so rare in this place of multi-coloured light from the solidified mako, swirl and skitter about him, dance around his feet and tug playfully at his ankles. Darkness. _His_ Darkness, responding to call of his temper, the murderous thoughts painting the back of his mind in violent images and a sea of blood.

"Words, Lucrecia. False words. Weightless. Empty. You speak lies when you hide like a coward. Actions speak truth. Actions give proof. You willingly locked yourself here, knowing you would never be free. Weak little girl, spineless, unable to face up to the consequences of her foolishness. I see you for what you truly are, Lucrecia. The apologies are wasted on me when I've heard them uttered to Vincent so many times. So repetitive. So very boring. So very dull and old. If you meant what you repeat over… and over… and _over_ again, you wouldn't have hidden. You would have faced the coming storm and you would have shouldered the burdens of your sins instead of lumping them onto Vincent."

_I'm sorry._

"_And again you spout a lie!_ But I am not here about Vincent, I'm here because of someone else." Was that a faint twinge of confusion swirling in the air? His feet carry him into the mako pool, and it is like coming home. This place is still rich with tainted Lifestream, supposed to be his place of 'birth', before she stepped in and ruined everything.

"No, I'm not here about your disgusting treatment of a man so clearly in love with you -"

_So sorry._

"I'm here about your son, you selfish bitch!" The words bounce off the walls, echo back to him in angry repetitions of his enraged shout, the dull peal of abused crystal ringing amongst them, and he blinks, momentarily stunned to find his clawed hand fisted and smashed up against her prison, cracks spider-webbing out from the place of impact, burrowing in deep through the transparent surface, but not nearly enough to put her in danger of death and decay. But it shows his murderously enraged mood well. He _wants_ to kill this heartless bitch, he _wants_ to rip her body apart and watch each tiny segment dissolve into the Lifestream. He wants to see her _die_, Godsdammit! Eventually there is silence, deafening after so many rebounds of his outburst. The cloying, disgusting smell of confusion slowly recedes, and gold eyes narrow at a flutter of movement at closed eyelids, the long lashes trembling minutely.

_… Sephiroth?_

"Oh so you remember his name, do you? You remember the _innocent baby_ you carried in your womb for nine months? You remember the child you abandoned to Hojo? You _remember_ him?!" Another slam of his fist against the crystal, another dull peal of protest, fury sparking hotter to the point chains unravel and snap, flames bursting into life along the gold metal that _is_ his arm from the elbow down.

"Forget about Vincent, forget about the wrongs you did to him. What about Sephiroth?! You, spineless little parasite that you are, ruined him the moment you abandoned him. You handed him to Hojo and Jenova on a silver fucking platter the day you turned heel and fled! The experiments and the torture he suffered throughout his childhood is _your_ fault, seeing the horror of war in his early teenage years is _your_ fault, the loss of his sanity to Jenova is _your_ fault, Nibelheim is _your_ fault. Everything your son has suffered in his lifetime is _your_ fault, Lucrecia, and you think saying sorry will make everything better? You think remaining here for as long as the Planet exists will heal the damage your actions caused?! You destroyed your own flesh and blood! _You as good as killed your innocent baby boy the second you let Hojo touch him!_" Are those - they are. Oh how rich; poor little Lucrecia, crying at the fact someone was yelling her _true_ sins at her. Claws let out an unholy shriek as he drags them across the crystal shielding her face.

"I would kill you right now if it weren't for this crystallised mako shielding your form, bitch. I would take great delight in snapping your bones and tearing you open, pulling flesh from muscles and muscles from destroyed bones. I would make you suffer a lifetime's worth of suffering and a thousand deaths before ending your miserable existence. Why? Because I'm trying to heal the damage caused by your actions, and there's so much of it I'm terrified I'll lose him to his own demons." He backs off then, one step at a time until he's at the mouth of the cave and fresh air is sucked clean into his lungs, held, released in one mighty gust.

"It's fitting, locking yourself in crystallised mako. Like it, you will never change, in any aspect. You will physically remain unchanged, and your mind will be unaltered. You say sorry, but you don't mean it. Live an eternity of regret, bitch. It's the least you deserve."

And then he's out of the cave, sprinting away from the temptation to punch and claw and kick his way to her body, pushing his form to its very limits in an effort to release the fury in such exertion. Wings snap out to their full extent and he leaps, one beat strong enough to propel his body upwards, spiralling towards the sky before he alters his course and heads for home. Back to where his heart is, clasped in the hands of a broken man.

Chaos is no healer, he's designed to destroy, but he's picking up the many pieces that have broken off Sephiroth over the years, and he's working them back together again. He can see the cracks and the fault lines, he'll always see them. But at least he's there to soothe away the sharp cut of each and every edge - a demon fighting to repair the one he loves even though they both know it is probably a losing battle.

That part of him, the part wanting to help Sephiroth heal and move on, comes forward each and every time he gazes into glowing jade eyes and sees the shadows hidden in their depths. That part of him is like Lucrecia, in a sense. Eternal. Unchangeable. Encased in crystal against the ravages of time.


End file.
